Mon Cher Petit Lapin
by Kit R.S
Summary: WW2 AU. War tensions are high in 1941, as former-bachelor Francis Bonnefoy is forced to leave his long-term love, Arthur Kirkland in London to join the resistance war effort in France. They communicate via letters, until one day Francis gets a bitter taste of what life is truly like without love...


_FrUK. Glen Miller - Moonlight Serenade: youtube (/watch?v=n92ATE3IgIs). Hit play when you see [[*]], it particularly helps set the mood if you want the full experience. Thank you!_

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"Are you sure you'll be alright without me?"

"I'm sure I can cope, I'm the one who's telling you to go!"

"You know how I can worry, _cher_..." Francis gently murmured, kissing his love on his cheek. "London is dangerous now, I'd much rather have you with me."

"And the French resistance is the safest organization to be associated with in times like these, yes?" Arthur replied sarcastically, raising a thick eyebrow at his love.

"You'd be safe with me, _mon mignon_." Francis smiled lovingly down at the smaller man, "You know I'd much rather have you around..."

"You have your family and friends to attend to in Vichy." Arthur cupped his stubbly chin in his palm, pulling him towards his lips again. "And I have my own to protect, here in merry old England." He pressed a gentle peck against them, fingers absentmindedly tickling the whiskered jaw. "I want you to give those kraut spies bloody hell, from me."

Francis sighed contently. Arthur's stubborn nature always gave him a hard time getting points across. He didn't want to leave. "... But come morning, what if I don't go? What if I just miss that ferry, instead I stay here and keep you as my new life?" He moved his hands up to caress Arthur's familiar warm cheeks, "Remember what we've dreamed of, Arthur?"

"Franci-"

"Remember the red-brick manor out in the country we had our eye on? The warm fire we said we'd light during the snowy winter, and the way we said we'd rest beside our gorgeous child, named Mathieu after my brave father..."

"Alfred." Arthur cut in, while a light pink dust speckled his cheeks. "We'd be naming the child Alfred."

He chuckled at Arthur's set ways. "If I leave, we won't be able to have that..." He stared wistfully into Arthur's eyes, such a beautiful olive green. Would this be the last time he saw that haunting colour?

"We'll still have all of that one day, and more, Francis. Just be patient." Arthur kissed his stubbly cheek, wrapping his hands around the nape of his neck. "Wartime is no time for dreams yet."

"You drive me insane with your little sayings, Arthur..." He smirked, pinching Arthur's cheeks playfully, which he knew irked him no end. "How did I get so lucky for two years in a row?"

"Three next June." The Englishman pushed Francis's hands away from his tender cheeks, scowling.

"You remember still..." He flashed an inviting grin, watching the other man's frown melt away into an embarrassed titter. He had to admit, he couldn't stay angry at Francis for long when he smiled like that. "Speaking of that day," Francis continued, "I have something for you, a gift you may say."

Arthur blinked in confused surprise, before the penny dropped. "Oh you didn't have to, darling! I thought we agreed no Christmas presents this year!" He gushed, bowled over by the fact that he had taken time, energy and money to search bare stores around the city to please him.

"When have I ever listened to your rules?" Francis teased, and rushed over to the wooden kitchen cabinet, retrieving a large flat brown paper bag. "Merry Christmas, _mon cher_."

"You're going to be the fucking death of me, with all these little gifts..." Arthur chortled, ripping open the packet, revealing a vinyl case. "Is this...?"

"Oui." He smiled, "A record, it has the song we danced to that fateful night, remember?"

"Moonlight Serenade? Francis, how much did this even cost you?" Arthur's eyes widened, pulling out the record with delicate care. "If you spent any of our savings, I'll-"

"Play it." Francis ignored his last question and thanked that he didn't finish his last statement, and nodded to the gramophone resting on the table.

"What are you like?" He muttered, smiling as he lifted the needle onto the record and the sound of the orchestra filled the room. [[*]]

"May I have this dance, Mr. Kirkland?" Francis did a mock curtsey, kissing Arthur's smaller hand, relishing in the giggle that came from it.

"I suppose you may."

"You refused the first time I asked you that night." Francis grabbed Arthur's hip, following that his hand and began swaying.

"What do you expect one to do when one is approached by a stranger in a ballroom, asking for a shag?" Arthur teased.

"One grants the strangers wish." Francis retorted, kissing him playfully on the nose.

"Come off it, you just wanted to have your way with me there and then like the way you used to do, you saucepot!"

"Didn't you?"

"I have a little more dignity and sense than that to go off with some randomer known for breaking hearts..."

"Yet, here we are..." Francis moved his hand to cup Arthur's back, dipping him back and kissing his neck. "I can safely say you have no dignity when I get beneath your rosy skin, mon petit lapin." He grinned, before faltering into a sad smile. "Arthur, you have no idea how painful it'll be not seeing your face in the mornings again after today..." He lifted him back onto his feet gracefully.

"You can cope without me. You've done it before." He suppressed a girlish giggle at the romance Francis was smoothly coaxing his entire self into. A part of himself was screeching at him this would only make the separation more unbearable than it already would, yet ending it on a bad note would only make those possible next few years ones of regret.

"For two weeks, yes but we don't know when the war is over! I'd much prefer to just stay with you here..."

"But you'll write to me, yes?"

"Of course! But it's not the same, reading over your words rather than hearing them..."

"Your family and friends need you..." Arthur reminded him.

"Do you not love me? Do you want me to go right away, eh?" Francis jokingly teased, his ever-present grin returning.

"I love and trust you enough to let you go back."

"But I belong here with you, don't you see?" Francis twirled Arthur beneath his arm, before pressing his body closer to the Englishman.

"A man like you knows where his loyalties lie, I know you that well, my darling." He smiled, pecking him on the cheek.

"I hate it when you're right." Francis shook his ponytail, "You really don't think I'm that worried, do you?"

"I'll be fine, love." Arthur grinned, "Now, I think it's about time we retire to bed, don't you think?"

"Well that depends on what you mean by..."

"Francis!"

"What?" Francis whined, pressing his hips against Arthur's.

"Tha-that's lewd!" He blushed furiously at the slight hint, still tittering.

"And you love it, oui?"

"I won't deny it..."

"Then embrace it cher, we mightn't see each other for a long time yet..."

"Well... alright." Arthur rolled his eyes, his face still stained bright red. "But actually use the bloody cream this time, I want to be able to sit down afterwards!"

"Of course, I wouldn't want to hurt you..." Francis loved how the other was so easily embarrassed. The redness that tipped his ears and nose time and time again was pricelessly adorable.

"You're a right twit sometimes."

"But you love me still?" He asked, pressing a light, wet kiss against Arthur's jawline.

He chuckled, feeling his racing heart flutter preparing to confess feelings for one last time. "Always have, always will."


End file.
